She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. Shari managed it after graduating beauty school. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. She hated the manor. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head.
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